


I Hear Your Voice In The Dark

by Lynchy8



Series: Fun (and sad!) little drabbles [20]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Death, M/M, Oneshot, Suicide, Tumblr fill, sad fic, this is not a happy fic, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:12:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1730711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynchy8/pseuds/Lynchy8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt I got on tumblr:</p><p> </p><p>  <i>enjolras and grantaire being codependent and it's not healthy by normal person standards, but for them it's great and it balances them out and separating them will only make their respective issues worse. their issues are getting better and everything's looking up and then grantaire dies, leaving enjolras to join him as soon as he can get away from his friends who are on permanent suicide watch</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hear Your Voice In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in about twenty minutes. All mistakes are mine. I can only apologise profusely - I have a cold and the prompt just pressed all my sad buttons at once.
> 
> Obviously massive trigger warning for death and suicide.

“Enjolras,”

The way Grantaire said his name never failed to make him light up inside. The way their bodies slotted together like two complicated puzzle pieces; at first glance it seemed impossible that they were made for one another, until they matched up and you realised that really, they were perfect together. Enjolras was heads and Grantaire was tails. Enjolras was up, R was down; east pulling against west, the opposites that were painfully and terribly attracted to each other. They were the balance, the meeting in the middle.  
Grantaire was his and he was Grantaire’s and that was the way the universe worked.

Combeferre was being polite when he referred to their relationship as intense. He knew that Courfeyrac was only trying to help when he suggested that perhaps, Enjolras could go out with them while Joly and Bossuet treated Grantaire to a night out, just them. Like the old days.

But Enjolras didn’t like the old days. Why would he want to reminisce about being alone, about being angry all the time and not understanding why; not comprehending that the strange feeling inside his chest was this complicated ball of emotion, of love, directed at the frustrating and fiercely intelligent human who drove Enjolras up the wall with his careless ramblings and feigned nonchalance? Why would he ever be without Grantaire ever again when they had finally sorted themselves out?

+

“Enjolras,”

It was over. Enjolras could barely breathe. When he had woken this morning to dark curls, crooked teeth and flashing, bright eyes he never dreamed it would be the last time. He ran his fingers over his lips, trying to remember the feel of Grantaire’s kisses, knowing he would never taste him again. 

Combeferre pressed his shoulder gently. 

“I’m so sorry,” the man murmured, looking at his friend intently. The words bounced meaninglessly off the bubble that had sprung up around him. Enjolras’s world had stopped.  
It was an accident. A boy running into the road after his ball; the driver of the car hadn’t stood a chance. Grantaire, ever so quick on his feet, had dashed into the road, pushing the kid out of the way, taking the full brunt of the impact. Joly had called Combeferre from the hospital but it was already too late. Nothing to be done.

+

“Enjolras,”

He forced the food into his mouth, even though it tasted of ash. Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged a glance between them. It had been three weeks and they were extremely worried. 

Enjolras had agreed to stay with them, even though the sheets didn’t smell right and the bed was too big. He wrapped himself up in Grantaire’s hoodie and wished that every time he went to sleep, he would wake up to the pleasant weight of Grantaire’s arm thrown over his chest. He never did.

“I know it’s hard,” Combeferre spoke gently. “But your friends are here for you, Enjolras. We love you, too.”

He knew they were trying to be kind. But how could he live half a life? How could he succeed now when the one man who had believed in him above everything else was gone?

+

“Enjolras,”

Combeferre peered into the guest bedroom, calling his friend for dinner, but the room was empty. Combeferre’s blood ran cold. 

“Enjolras?” he called out again. He had only been gone for fifteen minutes. He had popped to the shop to get some milk. Enjolras had been reading when he had left. He turned his attention to the bathroom door. _Oh no. Please god no_.

“Enjolras!”

He tried to open the bathroom door but it was locked.

“Enjolras, open the door!”

+

“Enjolras,”

Enjolras’s eyes flickered open, struggling to cope with the harsh white light. But he would recognise that silhouette anywhere and his heart broke with joy. Grantaire reached out his hand, smiling sadly. 

“I missed you,” Enjolras murmured, pulling Grantaire into his arms and kissing the man’s cheek before burying his face into the man’s neck. “Why did you leave me?”

“I didn’t mean to leave you, love,” Grantaire replied, his voice soft and _oh_ Enjolras had missed that voice so much.

“I came as soon as I could.” Enjolras tightened his grip. “And we’ll never be apart again.”

Grantaire was his and he was Grantaire’s and that was the way the universe worked.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, sorry. Feel free to yell at me below...
> 
> (or give me happier prompts on tumblr - lynchy8 :-p)


End file.
